


Monstrous

by madelinewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, fluff towards end, injuries, trapped by a demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinewrites/pseuds/madelinewrites
Summary: The danger of the hunting life has finally come to harm you, an absolute nightmare for Dean. His fault or not, Dean can’t help but feel like a monster.





	Monstrous

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Dean x Reader
> 
> Prompt: Monster by Skillet for @loveitsallineed ‘s 1k Followers Celebration Writing Challenge
> 
> Summary: The danger of the hunting life has finally come to harm you, an absolute nightmare for Dean. His fault or not, Dean can’t help but feel like a monster.
> 
> Word Count: 2395
> 
> Warnings: INJURIES, blood, trapped by a demon, angst, fluff towards the end
> 
> A/N: Hey everyone! It has been a while, and I’ve stolen every chance to write this! School has me so swamped, but I’m really trying to keep stuff going out. Thank you for understanding and, as always, I LOVE AND NEED FEEDBACK!

**“I feel it deep within/ It’s just beneath the skin/ I must confess that I feel like a monster/ I hate what I’ve become/ The nightmare’s just begun.” _-Monster by Skillet_**

The chains rattled as you futilely attempted to stretch your legs. You moaned slightly, the pounding in your head severe, the ache in your joints becoming agonizing. Even with the demon staring right at you, you couldn’t help but pray for some mercy.

           His black eyes slithered up and down your body as he watched you shake and shiver, a smirk crossing his too-pretty features. Demons weren’t supposed to look like that. They weren’t supposed to go from puppy-dog blue to demon black eyes in an instant. Even working with Sam and Dean couldn’t keep you from being kind to strangers, but it seemed like your luck had run out.

           “Getting a little antsy are you, sweetheart?” the demon laughed, his hands caressing a knife adoringly. “Don’t worry, if your little boy toy isn’t here soon, we’ll start having some _real_ fun.”  

           You shook your head, coughing roughly. “Why’re you doing this? I don’t have any part in your feud.”

           He stood, began pacing around the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

           “Oh, but you do,” he drawled, the slight accent of his meat-suit showing subtly. He walked closer to you, less than a foot between your faces as he knelt down. His black eyes bored into yours as he placed the knife gently against your throat. “Wherever pretty little you are, Dean Winchester is. I’ve taken note. And I’ll practically be royalty when I arrive in Hell with his head on a stick.”

           You gulped away the lump in your throat, making sure to look more sure than you were. “You have no chance against those two and you know it. This is suicide, buddy.”

           He smiled once more, humming to himself as he sat in his seat, grabbing another knife and rubbing them together. The shrieking noise sent shivers down your spine, your entire body cringing.

           “I guess we’ll just have to see then, won’t we darlin’?”

* * *

           Dean’s hand shook with anger and panic as he peeled out of the bunker’s parking spot.

           “I’m sure she’s fine Dean,” Sam said, a tone of uncertainty in his voice even with the confident words. “They need her alive to get us there.”

           “I’m gonna rip his damn _throat_ out. As slow as I possibly can, that son of a bitch,” Dean shouted, slamming down on his dashboard in frustration. Sam remained quiet, knowing it was serious if Dean was hurting Baby.

           Y/N was more important to Dean than either of them could put into words. She was his balance, his excitement, his home, his happiness, his strength. His weakness. The minute he laid eyes on her he became afraid of this very situation, the loss of control, the imminent danger Y/n would have to face, the absolute fear she would have to suffer through. The torture. Dean shook the thought away, knowing that stewing in those ideas did nothing to help. Y/N was strong, and even if Dean wanted to protect her from any earthly or unearthly pain, she was a damn formidable woman. Another of the many reasons why he was so madly in love with her.

           The coordinates they were given were difficult to find, so many wrong turns to make and overgrown backroads to traverse through. Dean hated himself for having to stop and throw up after a while, the anxiety making his burger from last night into a poison. The burger he ate with Y/N just a few hours before. They were quickly on the road again.

           Seven hours into driving, trying so hard to figure out where the damned demon could’ve taken her, Dean’s phone rang. Unknown caller. Dean’s breathe was taken away, answering the phone mid conversation with Sam.  

           “Hello?” Dean said gruffly, mad at the obvious panic in his voice.

           “Dean Winchester. I have been wanting to speak with you for so long.” His tone, like they were long-lost-friends, made Dean even angrier. He could hear the sounds of chains in the background.

           “Well get in line,” Dean grouched, trying to keep his signature attitude, not let the demon know how truly frightened he was. How he had never been so scared in all his fucked life.

           “I’d have stayed in hell if I wanted to do that,” the demon teased back, and Dean could practically _hear_ the smirk.

           “So you gonna tell me what you want or what?”

           “Did you get my directions?” the demon asked nonchalantly.

           “What, the random string of numbers? Yeah, not very user-friendly.”

           The demon sighed in annoyance. “I guess I have to give you directions then. How very dull.”

           Once he was done, he went back to his uncomfortably jovial façade.

           “I do hope to see you soon then,” he chuckled. “I think my new little pet does too, don’t you darlin’?

           “Oh, _fuck_ off, man,” Y/N’s distressed voice sounded, obviously exhausted.

           The demon’s voice came back. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a naughty mouth. Perhaps we should just cut it off, hmm? What do you think?”

           “I swear, you lay one of your dirty little fingers on her I will chop you piece by fuc-“

           “I suppose you should be getting here then,” the demon said, hanging up the phone promptly. Dean sighed, tears coming to his eyes.

           “Jesus Christ,” he whined, exasperated and scared and stressed, the only person to make those feelings go away trapped with some evil bastard.

           “What’s going on? What did he say?” Sam demanded.

           “We’re getting Y/N. Now.”

* * *

           You could hear the rocks crunch under the impala’s weight, and your stomach dropped. A conflicting tide of relief and fear swept through you. If they had taken any longer, the cuts would have continued to get deeper; but now they must fight against the demon’s thick blade. No matter how much undying faith you had in their strength, Dean being in any possible danger was not something you liked to bet on.

           The demon grinned, as if it was some sort of satanic holiday for him. The sound of the boys rushing, slamming their doors, quickly retrieving weapons from the trunk, ready to come in and cause hell, was full of intent. An assurance, a possible call to you that they were coming. You could almost see it, after all the years you’d been with them the urgency of emergencies seemed normal. You felt so safe with Dean, his sure stance and fierce demeanor, his sparkling eyes and charming smile. The thought of him took away your fear; Dean was going to get all of you out of there safely, leaving the demon’s decapitated head on the floor. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see as the demon’s mouth watered with the thought of harming Dean.

           After that they were so silent; you didn’t hear them again until they suddenly burst in the room. The demon stood in front of you, blocking your view. You wanted to badly to move, to see Dean and feel that comfort you craved, but you didn’t want to distract him.

           “You dirty bastard-,“ Dean cried, swinging up his knife, down towards the demon’s throat.

           “Oh, don’t you want to talk?” the demon snarled, blocking Dean’s attack and pushing him roughly away. “Share our feelings? Maybe you can get me to convert, support your cause. Though could it really be said you’re the good guys anymore?”

           “You missed the chance for mercy when you took Y/N,” Dean growled, his voice as sharp as his blade.

           “Hmm,” said the demon conversationally. “I thought that may strike a raw nerve. You’re quite the loners you know, very hard to get a hold of. What’s a demon to do?”

           “Go f-,” Dean began.

           “Now, now. Save the dirty talk for later,” the demon winked. A deep guttural noise came from Dean’s throat as the demon slowly approached you, almost animalistic. Even in the dark of the dungeon, his eyes shone.

           "Why don’t you make this easy and move out of the way? Maybe then I’ll _think_ about letting you live,” he threatened, his voice grave.

           “Is Dean Winchester backing down from a fight? Unheard of.” As he spoke, he casually paced back in forth, right in front of you. Finally, you could get a few good glances at Dean, and all you could see was the dark, sunken eyes and the paper white skin. You couldn’t have been gone for more than a day or two, and yet he looked as though he’d mourned for years.

           “I’m actually quite flattered,” said the demon, petting his knife once more. “You must tell me; what is it? Have I become that frightening? Or is it the girl? Don’t want her to see what a monster you truly are, hmm?”

           You could see Dean falter at the condescending words; no one else would ever see such a slight crack in the perfectly crafted façade, but you knew what every flicker of movement meant when it came to Dean. He was terrified. The whole situation was so helpless, so out of control. He was being given two unfavorable choices; let you die, or have you see him enjoy killing. No matter how many hunts you accompanied, you rarely hopped in when fighting was involved. Seeing Dean in his element was not something you really even _wanted_ to see, but if it was your life or the demon’s…

           “Killing _you”_ Dean spat, the word ‘you’ sounding like an insult. “Would be an act of heroism.”

           “Well, let’s give you something to fight for then,” the demon laughed maniacally, and before Dean could move the demon had his hands around your neck, lifting you up and slamming you against the wall. You attempted to claw at him, but your chains were too heavily weighted, the pressure of them aching against your tender wrists and ankles. Sam and Dean sprang into action, moving to slice the demon. You were dropped roughly, but not before the demon made a quick impalement in your gut. You screamed, the pain blinding momentarily. When your senses came back, you saw Dean on top of the demon, pounding his face in mercilessly. The demon’s laugh echoed of the walls. In shady light, Dean’s features were shadowed frighteningly, and for the first time you understood why so many were afraid of your softy boyfriend.

Sam dragged Dean off, the demon unable to do much of anything at this point. Your vision went black again, and then you heard Sam mid anti-possession chant, Dean’s hands holding your face, a panicked expression marring his beautiful features.

           And then it was all gone.

* * *

           All-too-familiar hospital beeps sounded, again someone Dean loved dearly laying with their life on the line in that the uncomfortable bed. The doctor said that Y/N would live, the stab missing anything vital, but it would take a lot out of her for quite some time. Dean could tell she was hurt, she would moan and kick in her sleep, just to still when the wound was pulled. Dean felt an ache himself.

           He wouldn’t leave her side, Sam having to do the cleanup job with the demon and bringing Dean meals. The demon’s body hadn’t made it, and Dean knew he was responsible. At the time, it didn’t seem to matter that he was pounding the demon’s face in, but it sure mattered when the 25-year-old guy was moaning into his demise after the demon was sucked back to Hell. Dean felt disgusting, monstrous even. He wished Y/N was awake and that he had never met her, because he knew damn well she was too good for any of this. For him.

           Y/N began to stir, her shiny eyes flitting open. Even sick, she was exquisite. Dean couldn’t help it; his hand flew up to her cheek tenderly. Once it was there though, all he could see was all the blood that had been created by those hands, and he quickly retracted the contact.

           “ _Dean_ ,” Y/N whispered adoringly, her voice scratchy, like her morning voice dramatized. He smiled softly, that fake smile of his. Y/n knew him too well.

           “You did what you had to do, baby,” Y/N said, reaching to grab his hand. He gave it to her so she wouldn’t struggle, but felt disgusting in doing so.

           “I did more than what I had to, Y/N,” Dean explained, his head dropping as he attempted to compose himself. “And I couldn’t even keep you safe in the process.”

           “It’s part of the life, isn’t that what you told me? It’s not easy, but it’s what has to be done.”

           Dean scoffed. “The guy died. Not the demon, the kid the demon also fucked over.”

           “That can happen even if the demon didn’t get a scratch on the guy,” Y/N pointed out, coughing. Dean’s eyes saddened.

           “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? I can see if it’s time for more pain med-“ Dean doted, his body moving faster than his mouth as he got up to grab a nurse.

           “No, Dean!” Y/N called out. “I want it to be just us for as long as we can manage.”

           Dean was unsure, but couldn’t help when she started to plead.

           “Come here,” she said, grabbing his face and bringing it inches away from hers.

           “Y/N, no,” Dean objected, not wanting her to kiss him. He was just too evil and she was just too good to be acquainted with any of the darkness that he brought with him.    

           “You listen to me, Dean Winchester,” she ordered, her voice surprisingly authoritative. “I’ve known from the beginning the implications of your job. I know it’s dark, I know you have to kill, and I understand that sometimes it’s gonna feel good to lynch something evil. That’s what it is. But I also know _my_ Dean Winchester, and I know that there is not a more good-hearted, noble man in this world. I love you for everything you are and everything you have to be. You just can’t let your self-hatred get in the way of me loving you.”

           Y/N wiped the tears Dean hadn’t noticed were there. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to express how much he needed and yearned to hear those words. So, with shaking hands, he let his lips crash into Y/N’s adoringly, thanking whatever God made it so Y/N was his, even if he didn’t deserve her.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also found at: http://deansleather.tumblr.com/post/152174705873/monstrous
> 
> Overall blog (feel free to follow or strike up conversation!): http://deansleather.tumblr.com/


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